100 Questions With Neal (And Mozzie)
by ConsultingCaffrey
Summary: Neal and Mozzie spend some down time answering 100 questions. Chapters will probably vary in length. I'll do three questions each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you bored yet?"

The question made Neal open his eyes to squint at the ceiling. "What?"

"Are you bored?" Mozzie repeated from his spot out at the table. "I found something for you to occupy your time."

"I am occupying my time," Neal mumbled, "I'm sleeping. Or I was." He'd had the flu for a couple days now and still felt pretty crappy. Mozzie had been attempting to cheer him up the whole day.

"You don't have to move," Mozzie said. "It's just a thing I found called 100 Questions. You can probably guess what it entails."

Neal turned his head, looking out towards the kitchen, though Mozzie was out of his line of sight. "100 Questions, huh? Well, what else do I have to do? Let's hear 'em."

Mozzie grabbed his laptop and carried it into Neal's room, coming to sit at the foot of the bed with it.

"But just so you know," Neal added, "After I do it, it's your turn."

"Fair enough," his friend replied. "Alright, first question: When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?"

Neal snorted, smiling. "What kind of questions are these going to be?"

"Just answer them," Mozzie prompted. "This'll be fun."

Neal sighed. "More milk than cereal. Who doesn't do that?"

Mozzie shrugged. "Stingy people. I have to agree with you on that one."

"If you have more cereal than milk, it almost defeats the purpose," Neal mused.

"The Suit does it," Mozzie said. "Which only proves my point about him not being trustworthy."

"He does not," Neal said. "I've gone over for breakfast a couple times. His cereal to milk ratio is definitely not anything you should be worried about."

"Which implies I should be worried about other things. Okay, next question... Do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?"

Neal had to think about that one for a moment. "I don't particularly like winter," he said. "But I don't dislike the feeling. I guess it depends on the day. If it's sunny and the wind isn't blowing too hard, it's quite enjoyable."

"I prefer the tropics," Mozzie said simply, as if that were answer enough.

"Same," Neal agreed. "But winter can be beautiful in its own way, so my answer is gonna have to be yes."

"We'll agree to disagree," Mozzie said. "What random objects do you use to bookmark your books?"

"Oh geez," Neal sighed. "The question should be what don't I use? Whatever's lying around, really." He sat up a little, pointing over towards the couch. "There's one over there I was reading. Grab that for me."

Mozzie did so, returning to hand it to Neal. "Looks like an envelope."

Neal opened the book and checked out his envelope bookmark. "Nothing in it though. It's just a blank envelope."

"How boring," Mozzie commented.

"Well what about you?" Neal asked.

"Oh, I don't use bookmarks. I just remember the page number."

Neal made a face. "Of course. Perfect recall."

"Jealous?"

"Always."


	2. Chapter 2

"How do you take your coffee/tea?"

"Everybody knows that," Neal smirked.

"Just answer for the audience," Mozzie insisted.

Neal gave him a funny look. "What audience?"

"...Me..."

"Fine. I like Italian Roast."

"And I prefer my tea," Mozzie said. "My own tea, not that crap you bring home on occasion."

"Yeah, I've tried your tea," Neal said, wrinkling his nose. "It should be a sin. Next, please."

"Are your self-conscious of your smile?"

Neal had to laugh a bit at that one. "Not even a little. But I know you are."

"I am not," Mozzie argued, "I just don't smile as much as you."

"Now you sound cynical."

"Well that's because I am a cynic," Mozzie said, a silent 'duh' afterwards. "Anyway, next question. Do you keep plants?"

Neal glanced around. "Uh, not many. I think there's one over on the bookshelf."

"It's fake," Mozzie told him. "That's why you haven't killed it yet."

"Hey, I know how to take care of plants," Neal said in mock offense. "And the question didn't specify whether the plants could be fake or not, so I say it counts."

"Fine," Mozzie agreed. "That's one for you and... 38 for me."

Neal raised an eyebrow. "You have 38 plants? Where? The only one I can think of it the bonsai tree at Thursday or wherever that is."

"Most of them aren't mine, per se," Mozzie admitted, "But I still count them."

Neal shook his head with a chuff of laughter. "Okay, I won't ask. What's next?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you name your plants?"

Neal squinted. "No..."

Mozzie hummed in agreement. "Me neither. I know Mrs Suit does, though."

"I can see that," Neal said, nodding.

Mozzie looked back to the computer in his lap. "Okay... Oh, this one's perfect. What artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?"

"Paint, pastel, pencil, clay, stencil," Neal rattled off. "Anything but marker and crayon, really."

"And music," Mozzie added. "You sing."

Neal shrugged. "Not often enough to add to the list, I don't think."

"And you dance."

Neal laughed. "Yeah, again, not enough to add. And the only time I recall dancing in front of you was for that FBI security camera routine. Mozart, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Mozzie said. "The one you were so horrible at the first ninety tries. You're right, let's keep that one off the list."

"As for you," Neal started, "You have your... talents." He paused, thinking. "Come to think of it, what do you do, Moz? What's your artistic medium?"

"I like to think of my art as... intellectual," Mozzie answered. "The best I can do on paper is a stick figure with a hat."

"Is the hat a fedora?"

"A sombrero. Now, next question: Do you like singing/humming to yourself?"

Neal shrugged. "Sure, when I'm in a good mood and no one's around to hear it."

Mozzie snorted. "Please. You have the voice of a god. Your sensitivity to other people's opinion astounds me. I, on the other hand, have not been graced with anything one might call a singing voice. So my answer is no. Absolutely not."

"You are a cynic," Neal mumbled.

"That's already been confirmed."


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?"

"Back," Neal replied.

"Same," Mozzie hummed. "That one's boring. What's an inner joke you have with your friends?"

Neal grinned slowly, glancing at Mozzie and saying, "Too spicy."

"Ate you kidding me? That was years ago! And that's not even what I said!"

"That's what I thought you said, which is why it's hilarious," Neal chuckled. "What did you say anyway? I can't remember."

"I do, and it wasn't 'too spicy'," Mozzie replied. "We were talking about locker combinations and I said '2-19'."

Neal laughed. "It's still funny."

"You hear the weirdest things sometimes. Anyway, here we go. What's your favorite planet?"

Neal frowned thoughtfully. "Favorite planet? I've never thought about it. I feel obligated to say Earth. What about you?"

"Pluto," Mozzie said without hesitation, and Neal looked at him sympathetically.

"We're not having this talk again..."

"Pluto is a planet," Mozzie insisted. "They can't just change their minds about a well-known fact like that."

"Calm down," Neal said. "I'm not saying you can't say Pluto for your answer, I'm just saying that most of the general population would tell you it's not technically correct."

"Traitor," Mozzie huffed. "You agree with them, don't you?"

Neal shrugged helplessly. "It doesn't really matter to me whether Pluto is categorized as a planet or not, I'm just going by the official statement."

Thankfully, Mozzie didn't argue.

"Pluto. That's my answer."

"Yeah, I got that."


	5. Chapter 5

"What's something that made you smile today?"

Neal sighed. "There aren't many options. I still feel like crap. But... some of these questions have for sure."

"Same here," Mozzie said, "But there was also that woman I ran into on the way over here."

Neal sat up a little, intrigued. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"Well... I literally ran into her," Mozzie said. "But she was very nice about it. She even told me to have, and I quote, 'a fantastic day'. Not just a good day, but a fantastic one."

Neal snorted, amused. "How very Disney. You didn't get her number, I take it."

"Some people are better left as good memories unblemished by unrealistic expectations."

Neal nodded. "Touché."

"If you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?"

Neal glanced around with a pointed look. "Um... I think we can both agree on this one, am I right?"

"I practically already live here anyway," Mozzie said with a grin. "Do you think—?"

"No," Neal interrupted. "We did that once. It ended with you drugging me and then I gave you two million dollars to leave."

"That's not even close to how it went," Mozzie said, taking offense. "For starters, I drugged you for the greater good of a case you wanted oh so badly to close."

"Yeah, yeah," Neal mumbled. "We can drop that now. What's next?"

"It's not a question. It just says go Google a weird space fact and tell us."

"Us?" Neal repeated.

"Means me. Here." Mozzie handed over the laptop. "You go first. I bet you pick something I already know."

Neal researched quietly for a minute, the made a face. "Found one... Uh, in space, the skin peels off your feet..."

Mozzie nodded. "Knew that."

"That's because you're a space nerd." Neal shoved the laptop back over to his friend. "Which means yours better be good."

It didn't take long for Mozzie to find one as well and he read it out loud. "If metal touches in space, it will bond and become permanently stuck together."

Neal's eyes lit up. "I knew that one."

"So did I."

"Of course."


	6. Chapter 6

"What's your favorite pasta dish?"

"Ooooo, that's a tough one," Neal said.

"If you don't wanna talk about food, we can skip this one," Mozzie offered.

"It's alright. Um... favorite pasta dish... I'm gonna go with chicken penne primavera."

"You just like it because it sounds fancy," Mozzie accused.

"I like it because it's good," Neal said. "Now what's yours? Do you even have one?"

"Yes, and it's very simple. It's called lasagna. Next question: What color do you really want to dye your hair?" Mozzie frowned at that, bringing a hand up to his bare scalp. "That's not fair..."

"I wouldn't dye my hair," Neal said, "But if I were forced to pick a color, I'd go bleach white."

Mozzie looked at him, brow furrowed. "Ew. Why? You'd never pull it off."

"I've pulled off worse," Neal argued. "And I wasn't going to choose bright pink, okay?"

"You could have said light brown," Mozzie pointed out, "It's still technically dying it."

"True, but where's the fun in that? Now what about you? If you had hair, what would you dye it?"

"Brown," Mozzie replied. "The most unassuming brown I can find."

"Predictable..."

"Tell about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up."

"Must I?"

"You must."

"There was the Belize thing."

Mozzie smirked. "How did that go again?"

Neal snorted. "Right. Like you don't remember."

"Do tell. Refresh my memory."

"I fell in a pool."

"Because..."

"Because nothing," Neal tried, but Mozzie wouldn't let him get away with it.

"Because some pretty girl made you forget how to move your feet properly. Seriously, though, I don't blame you. She was a goddess."

Neal covered his face and groaned. "It was like some cliché scene out of a comedy."

"You actually made it look graceful," Mozzie assured him. "And to be honest, I think she liked you better in a wet suit than a dry one."

Neal uncovered his face and smirked. "Yeah, that was..." He left it at that, blushing a bit. "Anyway, your turn. Fess up, Haversham."

With no shame at all, Mozzie said, "I once robbed a man for his butterfly collection."

Neal frowned. "That one didn't exactly go down in history between us, Moz. What about the hotel in LA?"

"No, that doesn't count. It wasn't my fault," Mozzie argued.

"True, but it was still funny," Neal smirked. "Go on, tell the story."

"I followed around some random stranger who looked exactly like you for about ten minutes before he turned around and asked me what the hell I wanted."

"Like a lost child," Neal mused. "The best part was that I was right behind you the whole time. I was following you, thinking you were actually going somewhere."

"Can we agree not to speak of that again?" Mozzie sighed.

"Sure," Neal smiled. "Pinky promise."


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you keep a journal? What do you write/draw in it?"

Neal hummed. "I've actually never kept a journal. I just have my canvases."

"I never had one either," Mozzie said. "I've been given one as a gift, but everyone knows you don't write down your deepest secrets unless you want someone to find them."

"I'd like a journal," Neal said thoughtfully. "I probably wouldn't use it much, but it'd be neat to have."

He could practically see Mozzie make a note of that and he knew he'd be getting one soon.

"What's your favorite eye color?"

Neal squinted. "I don't have a favorite."

"Well, if you had to pick."

Neal took a long time to think about that one and eventually he just shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't think it's all that important."

"That could be said for the majority of these questions," Mozzie countered, "But I see your point. I don't think I could pick either. It really depends on the person the eyes belong to. For example, I like you, so I like your eyes."

Neal smiled sweetly. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me."

"I'm only being nice because you're sick," Mozzie muttered. "Moving on. Talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces."

Neal frowned, looking genuinely saddened. "I don't have one of those either..."

"I do," Mozzie said. "Or I did... It never made it back from hell."

"Was that the one you gave to the woman in LA in exchange for a bus ticket?"

"Like I said... To hell."


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you a morning person?"

Neal and Mozzie exchanged a glance, saying in unison, "No."

"You get up early every day," Mozzie argued.

"Not happily," Neal snorted. "If it were up to me, I'd sleep in." He shot Mozzie a look. "Some of us don't have the pleasure of sleeping till noon."

Mozzie smiled in self-satisfaction. "It is quite nice."

Neal huffed, rolling out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Mozzie asked, leaning back as if expecting his friend to puke all over him.

"Getting a drink," Neal said back, walking into the kitchen. "Continue, I'm listening."

"What's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have zero obligations?"

Neal reached up to grab his favorite mug. "That's easy. Read a book, take a walk, sketch." He gestured to the various easels set up around the room, most with half finished drawings on them. Mozzie glanced at the nearest one with a thoughtful look.

"Why is it that every time I come over, you're drawing naked women? Do you leave these lying around when June's up here?"

Neal shuffled back over to the bed with his water, making a face. "I do not always draw naked..." A cursory glance around, though, made him shut his mouth and he twitched his lips in a grimace. "Okay, I don't know. Not the reason you're thinking."

"There's a naked dude over there on that one."

"Your turn to answer."

"What I do on my own precious time is top secret and none shall ever be privy to the mystery," Mozzie said firmly.

"That's not an answer."

"By definition, it is. Anyway, is there someone out there you would trust with every one of your secrets?"

Again, they glanced at each other and this time they both laughed out loud.

"No," Mozzie said. "Never."

"Same," Neal agreed, then frowned. "That's a little sad, isn't it?"

"It's safe," Mozzie corrected. "I don't know about you, but some of my secrets are too personal even for your ears."

"True," Neal admitted, "But it'd still be nice to have someone close to you with no barriers at all, you know?"

Mozzie gave him a sympathetic look. "Learn to be alone and like it. There a nothing more freeing and empowering than learning to like your own company."

"That was a quote, wasn't it?"

"Mandy Hale."


	9. Chapter 9

"What's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?"

Neal hummed. "I haven't really broken into any weird places. But I'm sure you have."

"Right you are," Mozzie said. "If I had to pick, it'd be the mortuary."

"You didn't," Neal gasped.

"Oh, but I did," Mozzie smirked.

"What could you possibly gain from breaking into a mortuary?"

"Well, it was just the office up front," Mozzie admitted. "And I didn't actually take anything. I was hiding."

He looked back to the computer to read the next question, then paused, looking back at his friend. "Now wait a minute, you've broken into a weird place before. You broke into a pet store!"

"I do not recall that," Neal said, frowning. "Are you sure that was me?"

"Fairly sure. It was before we met, but I heard about through someone who knew someone else. I was very thorough with my research into you, y'know."

"Well then I'm pretty sure I know what you're talking about and that wasn't the whole story. First, I didn't break in, I just stayed there till after they closed."

"Explain," Mozzie said, sitting back and crossing his arms.

Neal shrugged. "This was back when I was eighteen. I was pretty stupid then. I was just starting out on my own and the owner was a friend of mine's dad. It was kind of the only place I could think of to stay for the first night."

"A pet store..."

"It was either that or a cardboard box in an alley. Guess which I'd prefer."

"Did you sleep in a dog bed?"

"What? No," Neal frowned. "The guy had a mat in his office. Let's move on now."

Mozzie turned back to the computer. "Okay... What are the shoes you've had forever that you wear with every single outfit?"

"I'm not very attached to my shoes," Neal replied. "And the longest I've kept a pair is like eight months."

"I got a pair of sandals when I was five," Mozzie said. "I refused to wear anything else until they got so small my feet wouldn't fit in them."

"Cute," Neal smirked.

"What's your favorite bubblegum flavor?" Mozzie asked, moving on.

"Watermelon," Neal said without hesitation.

Mozzie looked at him oddly. "I actually didn't know that. Note taken. I have to stick with the original bubblegum flavor. Nothing beats it."

"I knew that one," Neal said.

"That's the one thing everyone knows about me," Mozzie replied.


	10. Chapter 10

"Sunrise or sunset?"

"Sunset," Neal said, smiling. "The colors seem to be brighter for some reason."

"I agree," Mozzie said. "I'm not usually up at sunrise anyway. What's something cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?"

"Well," Neal started, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've got this friend who likes to come in and interrupt things at the worst times, and he's a huge dork, but he's very smart and I think it's cute how he pretends not to care but really he's just a big softy."

Mozzie's cheeks reddened some. "This friend sounds intriguing."

"Oh, very," Neal said, nodding.

"Alright, well," Mozzie began, "I also have this friend. Very smart, but he has this nasty habit of getting involved in things that aren't his problem."

Neal snorted.

"But," Mozzie continued before he could say anything, "He's the kindest person I've ever met. He got a good heart. One cute thing about him is that he thinks he's Superman, always saving the day. To be honest, I think he'd give Clark Kent a run for his money."

Neal smiled, but said nothing, though he was quite touched. The two of them fell into a short silence, then Mozzie cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the screen.

"Anyway. Think of it: Have you ever been truly scared?"

"Oh yeah," Neal said, laughing nervously. "A few times. The one that first comes to mind is..." Here, he paused. "Well, the plane. With Kate."

"Ah," Mozzie hummed. "No need for further explanation. Mine, funnily enough, is when I was in a plane crash."

Neal blinked, brows raised. "You never told me about this."

"It never came up," Mozzie said. "And anyway, it was before we met. I was working with this crazy Puerto Rican named Fernando... He said he could fly a plane. He couldn't. And that was the end of that partnership."

"Fernando," Neal snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing. That's a funny name."

"Oh, I know."


	11. Chapter 11

"What is your opinion of socks? Do you like wearing weird socks? Do you sleep with socks? Do you confine yourself to white sock hell? Really, just talk about socks."

"Socks..." Neal squinted. "Just socks?"

"Just socks."

"Well, I like socks," he started. "I try to stay away from the weird ones, although last Christmas, I received red and white striped socks as a gift, so those are the exception to the rule. I... do not sleep with socks on, unless it's especially cold."

"Who gave you the socks?"

Neal shot him a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Ah, so Sarah."

Neal didn't deny it, so Mozzie continued with his own answer. "I am quite fond of socks. I do, however confine myself to white sock hell. I also sleep with them."

"I prefer black socks."

"I knew you liked the black ones..."

"Moz..."

"Moving on! Tell a story about something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends."

"Do we count this morning?"

"No, we do not."

"Well then this is gonna be hard because there have been a lot of after-3AM happenings with you and I."

Mozzie made a face. "That sounds heinous."

Neal gave him a playful shove. "You're heinous. Okay then I'm gonna have to pass. I'm too tired to think of something."

"Let's make a rule right here and now," Mozzie suggested. "We don't ever mention anything that happens after 3AM. Deal?"

Neal nodded. "Deal... I'd shake your hand, but mine are all clammy."

Mozzie didn't seem all that upset about it. "Alright, so we're skipping that one."

"If I think of something, though, we'll come back to it," Neal said.

"We literally just said there would be no talking about events that occurred after 3AM!"

"We didn't shake on it. Come on, next question."

Mozzie sighed, but read the question. "What's your favorite pastry?"

"Gotta be the cronut," Neal said immediately. "It started as a lie to Peter, but I think I actually do love them. On occasion," he added.

"In what situation would you need to lie to Peter about cronuts...?"

"You'd be surprised. Sometimes I have to get creative with these things."

"Well, I like my jelly donuts," Mozzie hummed. "On occasion, of course. And they have to be the right kind."

"Of course."

Mozzie glanced outside at the sunset. "Maybe we could call it a night for now."

Neal suddenly smirked, glancing over at his friend. "I thought of a story for the 3AM thing."

"There goes that deal," Mozzie grumbled, but he leaned forward a bit, eager to hear. "Do tell."

"It wasn't with you," Neal started, "It was with Peter."

"The Suit," Mozzie muttered. "Of course. Nothing good can happen after 3AM with a Suit." He paused briefly, looking at Neal closely "Was it...?"

Neal made a face. "Out of the gutter, please... Thank you. No, we were at the office."

"Like that would stop you."

"Can I...?"

"Oh, please go on."

"Anyway, we were at the office working on a sensitive case and I guess we lost track of time. I got tired enough to fall asleep on the conference room table on accident and Peter didn't bother waking me up till the first few agents came in around five. It was... awful."

"That's it?" Mozzie questioned. "That's your 3AM happening?"

Neal made a face. "What, you have something better?"

"Nothing I'm willing to share."

Neal prodded him annoyingly. "Come on, just one. Tell a boring one like mine if it makes you feel better."

"Fine. Once, at about 3AM, I met a man named Finley who had six fingers on both hands and he was scary good at pickpocketing."

Neal narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "That sounds made up."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Mozzie shrugged. "Now then, a few more questions and then I gotta split."

"Got plans?" Neal asked.

"Yes, I do. And it's nothing you need to worry your feverish head over."

"Believe me, I won't."


	12. Chapter 12

"Tell about the stuffed animal you had as a kid. What is it called? What does it look like? Do you still keep it?"

Neal shrugged. "I think it was a bear named..." He thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "That's gonna bother me now. I know it was a bear. It had an American flag sweater and my mom named it something really dumb. Bob... No, it was Bobo!"

"Bobo the bear," Mozzie laughed. "Cute. I'm guessing you don't have it anymore."

Neal shook his head. "Nope. I don't know where it went, but it's long gone now." He gestured to his friend. "And, of course, I already know about Mozart."

Mozzie smiled. "No explanation needed. Next question. Do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? Do you use them often?"

"I like pens," Neal replied. "I wouldn't call them pretty pens, but yeah, I guess so."

"I hold a particular dislike toward those flower pens," Mozzie muttered. "You know, the ones with the fake petals sticking out of the top and the green wrapping around it that slowly peels off? I hate those."

"Don't like stationary, got it," Neal said. "But what about just plain pens?"

"I prefer pencil. It feels less formal," came the reply, then Mozzie returned his attention to the laptop. "Last one for tonight. "Which band's sound would fit your mood right now?"

"Oh boy," Neal sighed. "You go first."

"I'm feeling... Hozier. Heard of them?"

Neal shook his head. "I don't listen to music very often."

"Ah, well. I'll leave the laptop for you. You can look them up if you feel like it."

"Maybe," Neal hummed. "As for my answer, I'll go with Lana Del Rey."

"How depressing," Mozzie commented.

Neal just gestured to himself with a pointed look and the other man gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, maybe when I come back in the morning, you'll be feeling better."

"Here's to hoping," Neal said.

Mozzie took the laptop back over to the kitchen table and left it there in case Neal got bored, then, after turning off all the lights and setting a glass of water on the bedstand, he left Neal to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

When Mozzie returned in the morning, Neal was still asleep, blanketless and hugging his pillow. The glass of water Mozzie had left was empty, and he was pleased to see that his friend did indeed look much better.

He puttered around quietly until around nine-thirty when Neal finally got up, his hair a mess for once.

"Mornin', Moz."

"Habari za asubuhi."

Neal paused to look at him. "Swahili at nine in the morning?"

"Bonjour, then," Mozzie amended. "You look perky. Feeling better?"

Neal nodded. "Very much. Thanks."

After Neal had taken a shower and made himself some breakfast, Mozzie opened up the laptop again. "More questions? I'm starting to like these."

Neal agreed, and Mozzie picked up where they'd left off the night before. "Do you like keeping your room messy or clean?"

"Clean for sure," Neal answered. "Although I don't mind the occasional mess if I'm busy painting or something."

"Same here," Mozzie said. "Except without the painting part. I don't paint."

He went to the next question. "Tell about your pet peeves."

Neal gave him a pointed look. "Let's limit it to three of them, shall we? Otherwise you could go on all day."

"Agreed."

Neal thought for a moment before answering. "For one, I'm a grammar nazi."

"I'll count that as one of mine as well," Mozzie said. "And for the other two?"

"When people leave lights on," Neal replied, "And obviously I have issues with authority."

"Obviously," Mozzie smirked. "I'll use that one too. And for my last... Sorry, but I'm gonna have to go with feds."

"Understandable," Neal assured him. "What's next?"

"Um... What color do you wear the most?"

"Black," Neal shrugged. "I think. I mostly wear suits, and they're usually black, so..."

"Not to mention all the black you wear for burgling purposes," Mozzie added.

"Wore," Neal corrected. "Past tense."

"For now," Mozzie said. "As for me, I really don't know. Grey?"

Neal nodded. "I'd agree with that. But then again, you do have an extensive color range, so it's hard to pinpoint."

"We'll stick with grey," Mozzie said, "Just because."


	14. Chapter 14

(Traveler reference in this one ;)

"Think of a piece of jewelry you own. What's its story? Does it have any meaning to you?"

Neal laughed, bringing his left leg up to place his foot on the chair beside him. "Does this count?" he asked, pulling up his pantleg to show the anklet with its little green light. "Because I don't think I actually own a piece of jewelry. There was that ring I kept for Kate, but... I don't have that anymore."

Mozzie gave him a sympathetic look. "You held onto that for how long?"

"A few years," Neal answered, then shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, I guess. Kate's long gone. What about you, Moz? Got any expensive jewelry?"

Mozzie huffed. "Like I'd tell you, sticky fingers."

Neal feigned hurt. "You still don't trust me!"

"Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words."

"Alfred Adler. Nice," Neal said, then quoted, "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

"Ernest Hemingway," Mozzie said. "Better. Alright, I do have several pieces of jewelry that are important to me, but one of them is a bracelet that Hector made for me. Remember Hector?"

Neal smiled. "Cape Verde. How could I forget?"

"Good times, while they lasted," Mozzie said. "I know we can never go back there, but sometimes I wish we could."

"Me too, Moz." Neal sighed. "Alright, what do we have next?"

"What's the last book you remember really, really loving?"

"On The Road," Neal answered. "By Jack Kerouac."

"Never heard of it," Mozzie hummed. "But I'll put it on my list. Mine is 1984."

"I could've guessed that one," Neal chuckled.

"It's a great example of where we're headed," Mozzie said. "But I won't get into that. Next question is... Do you have a favorite coffee shop? Describe it."

Neal grinned, picking up the cup of coffee sitting in front of him, still steaming. "My favorite coffee shop is right here. June has the best coffee I've ever tasted."

"I'm not really a coffee drinker," Mozzie said. "But if I were to pick a coffee shop I like, it'd be the one down the street from that secondhand store."

"Richie's," Neal said. "Yeah, that one's pretty good." He took a sip of his coffee. "But mine is better."


	15. Chapter 15

(Sorry this one's a little short. I'm working on several other big fics, one of which is super cool and I'm very excited about it~ I haven't been posting much because I've been working on those, so I apologize for the wait. Anyway, hopefully at least one will be up soon. Happy reading!)

"Who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?"

"Rebecca," Neal said, not sure how he felt about that. "Er, Rachel."

"You," Mozzie shrugged. "I don't often gaze at the stars, but I suppose our little patio talks count."

"Our little patio talks often lead to trouble," Neal said pointedly.

"That's besides the point," Mozzie snorted, waving him off. "When was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?"

"Probably now," Neal said, smiling. "I'm off anklet, I get to hang out with my two best friends pretty much every day, and I have an amazing job."

"As much as I disagree with you on that last part, yes, I suppose you're right."

"At least they pay me now," Neal said. "Soon enough, I should be able to get my own place."

"You could have had it already if you had just—"

Neal cleared his throat, interrupting. "No, Moz. I told you I'm out, and I'm out."

Mozzie sighed. "Point taken. Moving on."

"What about you?" Neal said, "When was the last time you were at peace with everything?"

"Never," Mozzie replied. "That's my number one rule. Never get too comfortable with anything."

"I thought your number one rule was 'Every man for himself'."

"It changes. Anyway, do you trust your instincts a lot?"

"All the time," Neal answered. "It's saved my ass more than once, before the FBI and now."

"In my humble opinion, our instincts are the only thing we can trust. So, yes, all the time."


	16. Chapter 16

"Tell the worst pun you can think of."

Neal smirked. "I told a chemistry joke yesterday. I didn't get a reaction."

"That one is so overused."

"Exactly. That's why it's awful. Now what's yours?"

"When you get hungover off of wine, it's called The Grape Depression."

Neal rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Of course yours is about wine. I don't know what I expected."

Mozzie shrugged, smiling. "Well, what else?" He glanced down at the computer again. "Alright, what food do you think should be banned from the universe?"

Neal sat up straighter, his expression hardening as he answered immediately. "Deviled ham. Wipe it off the face of the earth."

"So you want to kill off pigs?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Well, mine is much less drastic. I'd ban licorice. All kinds of licorice."

Neal tilted his head. "Of all things, Moz? Licorice?"

"Deviled ham, mon frere?"

"Touché. What's next?"

"What was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today?"

Neal thought about that one, brow furrowed. "I don't really remember being scared of anything. There was our neighbor, Scott. He was really big and creepy looking. I think he was a drunk or something. He wasn't very nice, but maybe that was just because I didn't like him."

"Did he yell at you for stepping on his lawn or something?" Mozzie questioned.

Neal shook his head. "No, he didn't really do anything. He only came out of his house to get the mail. But I think it's safe to say he no longer scares me. He's probably dead by now."

Mozzie chuckled. "And if you saw him again, what would you do?"

"Oh, I'd love to meet him," Neal answered. "Maybe he was a nice person, I'll never know. How about you? What was little Theodore afraid of?"

"The usual," Mozzie replied.

"Were you scared of the dark?"

"Clowns, actually," Mozzie corrected. "And that fear has never left me. It's definitely a good fear to have, I'll say that much. Clowns cannot be trusted."

"According to you, neither can librarians or bank tellers," Neal reminded him.

"Hey, everyone's afraid of clowns," Mozzie insisted. "Some old guy putting a bunch of makeup on and showing up to a small child's birthday party? Don't tell me that's not seriously messed up."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"Exactly."


	17. Chapter 17

"Do you like buying CDs and records? What was the last one you bought?"

"Have you ever bought anything in your life?" Neal deadpanned.

"Of course!" Mozzie replied. "But never a record or a CD, so I guess that answers that."

"Well, we made one," Neal pointed out. "For June, remember?"

Mozzie smiled. "Ah, yes. Even better than buying it."

"But in answer to the question, no, I've never bought a record or CD," Neal said.

"What's an odd thing you collect?" Mozzie continued, then pointed at Neal. "Corks. You collected corks a while back."

"I think the question was present-tense," Neal said. "But I'll take that one, since I don't really collect anything anymore. What about you, Moz?"

"My collection is more of a vast variety of items I find worth keeping."

"Ah, you're a pack rat."

"I prefer the term collector. I am certainly no rat."

"Could've fooled me," Neal teased.

"Alright, moving on. Think of a person. What song do you associate with them?"

Neal sighed, leaning back again in his chair. "Peter. The Cops theme song."

"How fitting," Mozzie snorted. "You. Lovesick Fool."

Neal made a face. "The Cab? Really?"

"You have to admit, the title fits quite well."

"Do you even know that song?"

"I may have heard it once or twice. Does it matter?"

"I think you're supposed to pick one you know. Not just the title."

"Well, too late. It's decided."

Neal glanced out to the balcony where sunlight poured over everything. "I don't know about you, but I'm moving out there. It looks like a nice day and the fresh air will do me some good."

"Great idea," Mozzie said, grabbing the laptop. "Right behind you."


	18. Chapter 18

"What are your favorite memes of the year so far?" Mozzie read after they had both settled into their chairs out in the sun. "I don't like this question. I don't even know memes."

"Damn, Mozzie," Neal smirked. "Back at it again being clueless about the internet."

"I feel like that was a reference to something."

"That was a meme. Damn, Daniel. Back at it again with the white vans. You haven't heard that one?"

"Absolutely not. I'm just going to skip this question. And, for your information, I am not clueless about the internet. I just don't spend time on the weird side of it."

"Oh, I think you spend all your time on the weird side of it," Neal said. "The other weird side."

Mozzie ignored that. "Have you ever watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show? Heathers? Beetlejuice? Pulp Fiction? What do you think of them?"

Neal gave his friend a puzzled look. "Um, I haven't seen any of those."

Mozzie about choked as his eyes widened. "What?! How?!"

"I don't really watch movies very often," Neal defended. "But I've heard of all of those except Heathers."

"That's the one I haven't seen yet," Mozzie said. "But the others, definitely yes. Pulp Fiction was my favorite."

"I'll have to add that to my list," Neal said.

"Yeah. The list that keeps growing," Mozzie snorted. "The list you never even look at. The nonexistent list."

"Hey, I watched American Horror Story when you told me to."

"I don't know who you're getting me mixed up with, but I never told you to do anything of the sort."

"Ah, must have been Sara."

Mozzie had nothing to say to that. "Who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? Well, that's a depressing question."

"Peter," Neal answered with a small smile. "When he thought I was dying."

"Yeah, mine is the same," Mozzie said quietly. "When we thought you were dead."

Neither of them said anything for a while, then Mozzie shifted the laptop in his lap. "Alright, well, that's enough of that one."


End file.
